"Oh! in the first place, we shouldn't have gone to the Grand Salon."

"That was your sister's fault."

"Yes, but she'll say it was mine. And then, I'll tell you something. My mother's inclined to favor Beauvisage, who shuts her eyes with galantine and never comes to the house without a chitterling eight inches long.

Mother's crazy over chitterlings, and she'd like to have me marry the pork man, so that she could always have a pig's pudding on hand. But I have always refused to hear with that ear, and since then they all look crosswise at me at home. So they'll lay the quarrel and the whole row on my shoulders. Oh! mon Dieu! I shall be beaten, I am sure!"

"Poor Nicette! I promise you that I will speak to your mother in your behalf."

"Oh! I beg you to! You see, she's quite capable of not letting me in, and making me spend the night in the street! That miserable Beauvisage!

he's the cause of it all! I'd rather jump into the river than be his wife!"

"Can you say as much about Finemouche?"

"Yes, monsieur; I want a husband to my taste, and I don't like any of those jokers."

"Then you have no lover?"

"No, monsieur."

"But, at your age, one ought to love."

"Oh! I'm in no hurry. But we're almost there, monsieur, we're almost there. Ah! how my heart thumps!"

I felt that she was really trembling, and, to encourage her, I took one of her hands and pressed it. She made no resistance, she was thinking of nothing but her mother.

At last we reached Rue Sainte-Marguerite; Nicette dared not go any farther.

"There's the place, monsieur," she said; "that house next to the porte cochere."

"Well, let us go there."

"Oh! wait just a minute, till I can breathe!"

"Why are you so frightened? Am I not here?"

"Pardine! perhaps mother won't even let you in!"

"We will make her listen to reason."

"That will be hard."

"Your sister is more to blame than you."

"Yes, but she's fond of my sister, and she don't like me."

"Well, we haven't come all this distance not to try our luck."

"That is true, monsieur. Come on, let's go to the house."

We arrived in front of Madame Jerome's shop; I had learned from Nicette that that was her mother's name. Everything was tightly closed and perfectly still; no light could be seen inside the house.

"Does your mother sleep in the shop?"

"Yes, monsieur; at the back."

"We must knock."

"Oh! if only my sister hasn't got home!"

"Let's knock, in any event."

I knocked, for Nicette had not the requisite courage; there was no reply.

"She sleeps very soundly," I said to the girl.

"Oh, no, monsieur! that means that she don't intend to let me in."

"Parbleu! she'll have to answer."

I knocked again; we heard a movement inside, then someone approached the door, and a hoa.r.s.e voice demanded:

"Who's that knocking at this time of night?"

"It's me, mother."

"Ah! it's you, is it, you shameless hussy! and you think I'll let you in after midnight, when you've been setting men to fighting and turning a whole quarter upside down! Off with you this minute, and don't ever let me see you again!"

"Mother! please let me in; my sister has deceived you."

"No, no; I know the whole story. You're a cursed little pig-headed fool!

Ah! you don't choose to be a pork man's wife, don't you? All right! go and walk the streets; we'll see if you have pig's pudding to eat every day!"

Nicette wept. I thought that it was time for me to intervene in the quarrel.

"Madame," I called through the door, in a voice which I tried to make imposing, "your daughter has done no wrong; you are scolding her most unjustly; and if you leave her in the street, you will expose her to the risk of doing what you will regret."

I waited for a reply; none was forthcoming, but I heard someone removing the iron bars, as if to open the shop. I went up to Nicette.

"You see," said I, "my voice and my remonstrance have produced some effect. I was certain that I could pacify your mother. Come, dry your tears; she is coming, and I promise you that I will make her listen to reason, and that she won't leave you to sleep in the street."

Nicette listened, but she still doubted my ability to obtain her pardon.

Meanwhile, the noise continued, and the door did, in fact, open. Madame Jerome appeared on the threshold, wearing a dressing jacket and a nightcap. I stepped forward to intercede for the girl, who dared not stir; I was about to begin a sentence which I thought well adapted to touch a mother's heart, but Madame Jerome did not give me time.

"So you're the man," she cried, "who brings this boldface home, and undertakes to preach to me and to teach me how to manage my daughters!

Take that to pay you for your trouble!"

As she spoke, the fruit seller dealt me a buffet that sent me reeling toward the other side of the street; then she drew back into her shop and slammed the door in our faces.